


Who Can Say

by high_emerald_clouds



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, No Murder AU, OT3, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Polyamory, Pre-Canon, using the otp challenge prompts for ot3 because i can
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 09:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16910478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/high_emerald_clouds/pseuds/high_emerald_clouds
Summary: 30 days of NSFW oneshots. Their relationship isn't an easy one, but they seem to make it work well enough.Oneshot #1: It’s too hot to do much of anything except be lazy. Featuring Ernector.





	Who Can Say

**Author's Note:**

> Using the 30 Days OTP NSFW Challenge for the OT3 and all out of order because I'm a rebel. Fight me.
> 
> Each oneshot features varying combinations of character interactions, but they're all based upon a No-Murder AU with established Imelda/Héctor/Ernesto. 
> 
> Spot a mistake? Let me know, thanks!
> 
> Big shout out to everyone over on Discord for all the encouragement and for letting me ramble on and on about these three. Thanks y'all!
> 
> The prompt for this oneshot was: 19. Outdoors, woods, parks, gardens

“I don’t want to move.”

“Then don’t move,” Ernesto says, slow and drowsy. They’re both stretched out in the shade of a wide Cazahuate, a tree that has grown on Ernesto’s property since he and Héctor were still young enough to climb the branches without snapping them. The last pale flowers had fallen months ago, and in the heat of July the tree isn’t quite as pretty as in cooler days, but its shade is more than welcome.

Héctor can see patches of blue sky through the leafy branches. It won’t be long till the sky begins to darken, but Héctor knows the night will bring little respite from the day’s heat. The temperatures have been unbearable lately, dropping only slightly when the sun goes down, and more than once Héctor has dreamed of dunking himself into a bath of ice and staying there till winter arrives.

All he can do for now is hide in the shade, splay himself out onto the cool grass, and pray for a breeze.

But there’s no breeze to be had. Not a single chilled huff of air that the world can spare. Only the heat, even under the cover of the tree. 

At least his friend is there to suffer with him. With his shirt unlaced and sleeves rolled to his elbows, sweat slick on his brow and chest, Ernesto is a fine sight to enjoy in the torture of the heat. But Héctor can’t even enjoy the sight as much as he wants because it’s just too hot and Ernesto becomes lazier than even him when the temperatures rise like this. 

Alone and hidden from the town by the high stone wall and thick trees around Ernesto’s meager property, they have the chance to be closer than the public eye will allow, as they’ve done a few times in the past when it’s late in the day like this. But even that takes too much energy. All they can do is be as still as possible.

They should be finishing that table they’d promised to señor Alvarez. It’s sitting unfinished nearby, but the sunlight beats down on it as ruthlessly as ever, and it’s been half an hour since either of them had bothered to try and return to work. 

Héctor blinks at the branches overhead. A bug buzzes nearby. Beads of sweat hike an agonizingly slow path down his brow and his neck. He just wants to walk home and collapse into bed with Imelda and Ernesto beside him, but then he’d be sandwiched between two hot bodies on an already hot day, and even that fantasy is ruined by the heat.

He rubs a hand slow across his forehead. Shuts his eyes. Listens to Ernesto snoring beside him, and thinks a moment of sleep might rejuvenate his depleted energy.

Just a moment, he thinks.

A minute.

The world buzzes around him and the heat clings like a wet cloth but sleep finally takes him, and he dreams disjointed dreams of Imelda and Ernesto and cooler days.  


* * *

“Are we going to stay here all night?”

Héctor opens his eyes.

Ernesto is sitting up, looking down at Héctor. Behind him, the horizon is layered with swatches of yellow and deep orange, the sun a mere spot of gold through the swells of rolling hills far off. 

The air is cooler now. The sweat soaking Héctor’s shirt is chilly and almost dry, and the air doesn’t feel like an oppressive weight shoving him down.  
With a sigh, he stretches his arms over his head and stays like that, looking up at Ernesto with half lidded eyes.

“ _Quizás_ ,” he says around a yawn. “Now I’m too sleepy to move.”

He’s not lying, exactly. Instead of the heat keeping him down, now it’s that slow sort of drowsiness that hangs about after waking from a nap that lasts too long. If he could stay in the grass all night, he would.

He can’t of course. Imelda is waiting at home. Imelda and supper and a bed where Héctor can cuddle with his wife and friend as much as the heat will allow. It’s a much better thing to look forward to rather than sleeping on the hard ground all night.

“Too sleepy to move? _Perezoso,_ ” Ernesto snorts. He leans back until he’s reclining on his bent elbows, still watching Héctor with a lazy sort of interest. The sky is darkening but it’s still light enough for Héctor to see his friend’s gaze moving slow over his careless sprawl. 

“Tu _eres perezoso,_ ” Héctor shoots back without much energy. He yawns again and scratches at his scalp. “You complained about the heat first.”

“ _Cállate, cabron,_ ” Ernesto says just as lazily. “If you hadn’t offered to fix that table, we could have been swimming in the river today.” He pauses and huffs. “We could have been fucking by the river today.”

“In plain view of señora Ortiz rinsing her sheets,” Héctor says. “What a way to spend the afternoon. _Pendejo,_ ” he adds just because, and smirks at Ernesto’s narrowed eyed glare.

“Not too sleepy to be an ass, hm?” Ernesto says, and Héctor just shrugs. “What do I have to do to get you off the ground. I want to go eat.”

“Go then,” Héctor says. “Just let me sleep, _por Dios._ ”

“And let Imelda come to collect you?” Ernesto nods, humming. “ _Pues, bueno--_ ”

“Wait,” Héctor says quickly, and reaches up to grab at Ernesto’s sleeve when his friend begins to stand up. “ _Ahorita voy, cabron,_ just wait.”

Ernesto falls back with a chortle. Héctor sighs with relief. 

“Just give me a minute,” Héctor says, shutting his eyes and stretching. “You made me fall asleep in the _pinche_ grass, I’m all itchy and sleepy.”

When he opens his eyes he sees Ernesto watching him with that same gaze, more interest and less lethargy this time, and Héctor arches his back _just so_ and twitches his eyebrows.

“Like what you see, eh?”

“No,” Ernesto says, but after Héctor scoffs indignantly, he reaches a hand under the hem of Héctor’s loose shirt and smooths his palm along Héctor’s side. “Maybe.”

Ernesto leans down and Héctor lets his eyes fall shut when he feels his friend’s lips press against his jaw. Ernesto runs drags his hand further up, palms at Héctor’s chest and flicks a nipple with his thumb. He presses another kiss to Héctor’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, his lips, and Héctor deepens the kiss as lazy and slow as the hottest time of the day. 

Some noisy bug creeks and chirps nearby. The sun sinks further behind the hills. The air is still hot but no longer hot enough to discourage the pressing of bodies under the cover of a low tree, the sliding of hands along sweat slicked skin.

Héctor buries his hand in Ernesto’s hair, ignores the cool sweat under his fingers, and gasps into the kiss when he feels Ernesto rub his palm between Héctor’s parted thighs. He turns his head, eyes shut, biting his lip as Ernesto rubs lazily at him. Ernesto moves to kiss his bare neck, and vaguely Héctor worries he's too sweaty for Ernesto continue, but Ernesto nips at him and sucks and worries at the spot of skin there until Héctor moans and rolls his hips up against Ernesto's slow, sure pressing. 

“Will you get up now?” Ernesto asks, leaving his neck to breathe against Héctor’s ear. “ _Por que,_ if you don’t, I’m going to leave you like this until I have you in the privacy of your room. _Entiendes?_ ”

“ _Chingado,_ ” Héctor moans. “Fine, fine, I’ll get up--”

“Good.” Ernesto says. He nips at Héctor’s ear, gives him one final rub, and sits up, raking his gaze over Héctor with a smirk as Héctor groans and sits up very, very slowly.

“Imelda’s probably waiting anyway,” Héctor says, trying to will away his growing arousal until he’s at least in the comfort of his home.

“She can hold you down while I fuck you, then,” Ernesto says. He gets to his feet and reaches a hand to help Héctor do the same. “For wanting to get off where anyone can climb the wall and see. _Cochino._ ”

“Says the one who wanted to fuck in front of an 80 year old woman,” Héctor snaps back, dusting grass off his ass and patting his shirt because the grass found its way in there too, clinging to the sweat still sticky on his skin.

Ernesto scoffs as they walk, defensive. “ _Calláte!_ I did not, _pinche pendejo--_ ”

“ _‘I wanted to fuck by the river’_ , you said.”

“Not where she could see, _Dios mio._ ”

They exit his property through the ancient, high iron gate, leaving the heat of the day behind and walking to Imelda and dinner in the slightly less oppressive heat of the night, arguing until the stars are at their brightest in the sky.


End file.
